Sausage baps and sticky clouds

Reluctant as I am to head up another post with a food related header and so suggest that I only fly at all in order to stuff my face…

In short the lure of Haverfordwest’s breakfasts and the infectious excitement my little nephew has at the arrival of “Aunty Leia’s aeroplane” combined with the mixed weather to deter me from my planned trip to Caernarfon.

I consoled myself over the shorter trip by taking the most convoluted, wandering route along the coast I could contrive!

I did give my sister fair warning to expect me when she saw me, but the sproglet was nevertheless halfway over the airfield fence as I finally taxyed in. At the age of four, he really does see TOMS as just an overgrown toy aeroplane I think, even though he did insist on “checking” as well as climbing aboard to go “pretend flying.”

He now wants to know when we can go “real flying”. In truth I’m not 100% certain of his self restraint in a front seat, within grabbing distance of one or two important items! I think he’d be sensible, but “think” is such a small word…

On this occasion, fortunately, he was satisfied with the argument that it was a bit too windy and agreed to wait for a day when there weren’t any “bumpy clouds.”

“Or sticky ones,” he added.

I blinked and slowed to stare at him.


“No sticky clouds, like you got stuck in.”

A moment’s thought explained this odd idea and I doubled over laughing. My unplanned sojurn on the Isle of Wight some months early had been explained to him by Nana, as “Aunty Leia’s stuck because of the clouds,” and clearly he’d formed some confused idea that I’d spent the ensuing two days trying to extricate myself from some fluffy, gluey airborne mess!

I find myself wondering what odd misconceptions I must have held at that age…

Sticky clouds…

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